(I apologize for my terrible punctuation)
Taking another piece of parchment from under your bunk you begin writing a second letter.
{
September 14, 1923
To My Sweetest Love, Cecillia
As you well know before the draft you provided me with two of the happiest years of my life. I know this past year and a half since then has been harsh on the both of us, but I feel as though this time apart will allow our next meeting to be ever so much sweeter.
Do you remember the creek by your grandfather's where we would walk and skip stones across the water and talk about everything and nothing at all for hours at a time? Or when we first met, you had suggested I escort you home? I had just left the mines and you wiped the coal dust from my cheeks before kissing them as I dropped you off at your door step.
I have a surprise for you when I see you again, I've meant to ask for the past year. I trust that amethyst is sill your favorite stone.
*A beautifully done drawing of a ring is placed here on the letter*
Until we meet again,
Your love, Freud
}
Closing the letter in an envelope you chase down the mail bag and add the new letter to the pile.
Back at your bunk you retrieve a hand carved pipe and the rationed tobacco from your foot locker under your bunk.
Patting your friend, PV2 (Charles) Lachat, on the shoulder as you pass him on your way to the deck. Charles seems to be doing well in his gambling with a large stack of various coins before him.
He sets his cards down and grabs your wrist gently before you pass, he speaks in a thick Domen'De accent,"I'll see you on the drill pad tomorrow brother, I've aquired a token from my family for you". He let's go of your wrist and goes back to playing cards.
You slip your way through all the standing men in your barracks on the way to the deck. As you step outside a thin cloud of tobacco smoke drifts into the barracks. Closing the door you scan the men sitting outside, one of them you recognize as PFC Azarov, a man of Brachstadt lineage, a born warrior.
Azarov makes eye contact and pulls out a chair, slapping his hand on it a couple times,"Come Comrad, take a seat and unwind with us".
You sit down and he takes a firm grip on you shoulder, opening his jacket he reveals a small flask,"You look tense, would you care for a sip?". You finish packing tobacco into your pipe before nodding your head no. Azarov closes his jacket and produces a match,"Then perhaps you will accept this", he strikes it on his trousers before holding it out as you light your pipe.
"Thank you", you say before inhaling a puff of cheap tobacco smoke. Azarov nods his head,"We were just discussing what we did before the draft, would you care to share your story?".
You respond nervously, telling them about your time working in the mines and side work helping on the docks. After that you share stories of fishing with your friends on a small raft that you all repaired and then a few stories about Cecilia. They all listen intently and comment when they can relate or share a small story or two.
Time passes quickly as an officer comes out hitting his baton on the side of the barracks,"Lights out boys. Chit chat over".
You lay in the darkness, sitting still on the uncomfortable bunk, thinking of nothing but not being able to sleep. Eventually you slip into the bliss only to be woken up by the sound of a baton clanking against the metal legs of the bunks,"Wake up boys! Wake up!".
((Anyone still interested in continuing this?))
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Topic: FOR CARNISSIA: The Tragedy of War (Read 1195 times)